


Not A Fairy Tale

by OperaGoose



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Arranged Marriage, Demisexuality, Long-winded and Unnecessary, M/M, Marriage of Convenience, Misunderstandings, Secret Identity, Slow Burn, WIP, troubled relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-29
Updated: 2015-10-29
Packaged: 2018-04-28 18:06:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5100479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OperaGoose/pseuds/OperaGoose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A prince, a pauper, a royal wedding, and a castle by the sea. If only things were as simple as the stories made them out to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not A Fairy Tale

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Alecto](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alecto/gifts).



> Alecto,  
> First of all, let me tell you how extremely excited I was to receive your prompts for the gift exchange. The arrangers certainly did a brilliant job of matching me up to it. Some of my friends can account for my eager excitement on getting the prompts.  
> That being said, I started this over again and again. Finally, this story fed my muses. Perhaps a little too much. As it stands now, this is only part of the story. But I have to give you something to show for the gift exchange's release. I promise there is more coming! (And quite a bit more written so far)  
> I hope you can enjoy this, though it may not be exactly what you wanted, I tried to fulfill what I could of what you asked.

The greying man, dressed casually in a pair of jeans and a leather jacket, nudged him in the side. “Next round is on you, right mate?” 

Seto stayed relaxed at the casual touch, cueing his body guards to do nothing about the unsolicited touch. He blinked at the commentary, eyes widening a little as he looked at the veteran. “I can’t do that.” 

“You gotta!” the man insisted. “I paid for the last round, so it’s only fair, right?” 

Seto, already a few beers under his belt, thought the logic was very sound. “But I don’t carry money!” 

“You’ll have to find some!” the veteran laughed. 

Seto, as he learned the next morning, had ended up begging for cash from his security guard. Jounouchi Matsumi was a friendly man, a loyal soldier from the armed forces of the commonwealth, and Seto was glad to discover that he’d gotten the veteran’s phone number the night before. 

Convincing the public relations team, who disliked him enough as it is, to allow him to conduct a friendship—or as close as he could get—with “an alcoholic welfare layabout” (their words, Seto quite enjoyed his company) was difficult. He had to promise to clean up his partyboy act a little, but in the end he got what he wanted. An overseas drinking buddy. 

* * *

“We have a problem.” 

“We always have a problem,” Seto muttered. He was nursing a hangover and doing his best to pretend he wasn’t. It was rare their handlers could organize them time in the same palace together, let alone everyone in the same room. 

“And, as usual,” his father said in a cold voice, “your refusal to behave in a respectful manner is the cause of it.” 

It was not respectful to roll his eyes and scoff at his father. But he did anyway. Mokuba did his best to hide his laugh behind his hand, but it earned them both an impatient glare. 

“The marriage we have been arranging with Princess Kisara of Sweden has fallen through, because of your drunken party-boy antics.” 

“Good riddance,” Seto mumbled, folding his arms over his chest. It wasn’t that he didn’t like, Kisara. The princess had bite, unlike a lot of insipid royal ladies he came across, and he could hold a conversation. But she lacked a penis and that completely derailed any interest he would have in a marriage with her. 

“Who’s she gonna marry then?” Mokuba asked. 

“ _Going to_ , Mokuba,” Noa said impatiently, frowning at his coarse language. 

“Kisara is marrying _a commoner_ ,” their father announced, glaring at them all. “Ever since Frederik married that filthy Australian woman, all the royal families are doing it. Denmark, England, Sweden, we hear rumours about Kemet at well.” 

“And you, of course,” Seto said dryly. Queen Sasuka wasn’t present at the moment, but he never expected her to be. 

“Our kingdom must be the forefront of social justice and equality. Domino was the first to elect a democratic government, as you know.” 

“Yes, Father, we know,” they chorused in unison. Noa was polite and deferent about it, but Seto managed to inject a little sarcasm into the well-repeated phrase. 

Even if King Gozaburo did not believe in the social equality he preached, preach it he did indeed do. 

“Prince Charles and Prince William both have commoner wives. The public’s love affair with the romance between William and that woman has sufficiently won them over to the monarchy for another generation.” 

Seto did not like where this is going. 

“We must best them.” 

“Father, it’s not a publicity competition!” Seto protested, scowling at the aging face that frowned back at him. 

“Seto, royal life always has been,” he answered sternly. “The new media, paparazzi and such, have only made our publicity more important than ever.” 

“I do my part!” Seto protested, getting to his feet. “I run events to celebrate your disgusting armed forces; I get beautiful women drunk and I take them back to a hotel and let them believe we enjoyed a night full of heterosexual relations! What else am I supposed to do to compromise myself for the good of the country?” 

“We are glad you brought that up, Seto,” Gozaburo said. He turned to the room at large again. “As you know, our kingdom has had civil unions between same-sex couples since most countries were drafting their buggery laws…” 

Oh no. 

“Still, the public fad of the decade is this so called _Marriage Equality_. There is a bill soon to be introduced in parliament…” 

“No.” 

“You always did catch on quickly, Seto.” He looked at him directly, ignoring the others in the room. “We will encourage the parliament to pass the bill. You have six months to choose the male commoner of your choice and then arrange a situation. The royal _Gay Marriage_ of Prince Seto, Duke of Kaiba, will be the first of many in our fair kingdom.” 

* * *

Seto drowned his sorrows in a lot of whiskey. 

* * *

At Hirutani, the capital city of the same name in a small country of their commonwealth, he made an announcement about spending a few months studying wildlife conservation with a completely made up organization. Alibi publicised, he cut his hair short and dyed it a frankly alarming shade of green. 

Jounouchi Matsumi was president the Veterans and Soldiers’ Club in a small town in a poor province of Hirutani. He was already sloppy drunk when Seto showed up, cheered loudly and threw his arm over the prince’s shoulder. He had to stretch up and nearly topple over to do it, but it happened. 

There was a young blond behind the bar—the vet calls him “Boy!” and demanded more drinks from him. He was sort of good looking, in a rough small-town-with-a-sunken-economy way. His name-tag just said ‘Jou’. 

“What are you having?” He asked, eyeing Seto’s green hair first, then his dad’s drunken form bellowing across the room. 

He felt like he was being judged. “Whiskey, double,” he replied, “hold the ice.” The look he got for that tells him yes, he was _definitely_ being judged. 

The blond held out a hand, rough with callouses. Working class. “If you’re drinking, I gotta take your keys and your license. Club policy.” At the dubious look he receives, he jerks the other thumb back over his shoulder to the sign hanging below the top-shelf liquor that says exactly that. 

Handing over the keys to the middle-of-the-range car his publicist arranged, he slung himself into a stool on the bar. Jounouchi Sr. spilled into the seat beside him. “Boy, quit being such a buzzkill.” 

The blond rolled his eyes and moved to grab a bottle of liquor from the back of the bar. “Gotta name I’m starting your tab under?” The rough accent was even ruder than Jounouchi Sr.’s own—the father was just as common blood, but he had a slightly more refined accent. 

He’ll get the story later. For now he can tell from the accent that Jounouchi Matsumi is from the kingdom. Soon enough he will learn that then Touya Matsumi’s father died of illness and his mother remarried a Colonel in the royal army; who sent him away to military school to be trained up. Jounouchi Matsumi had shamed his adoptive father by moving countries and starting out as a private; only able to rise so far in the ranks. 

“Kaiba,” he said. It was one of his names, and it was what was printed on the fake documentation his publicist had somehow acquired. 

Jou’s eyebrows twitched up a little, but he was silent as he poured out the drink. It was a little bit less than a proper double, but the whiskey was cheap swill so he didn’t care that much. He wrote it down on a piece of paper, then pinned that up on a board. There were a lot of slips there. The longest had the characters of Jounouchi Matsumi’s name on it. 

Seto drunk, but Jounouchi Sr. matched his drinks two for one. He was drunk, but the veteran is sloppy drunk. A waitress, who seemed to be in some kind of relationship with the much older man, took him off and poured him into a taxi. 

The blond wiped down the bar with a clean cloth and watched him warily. “Should I call you a cab to get you back to the hotel?” 

“Are you gay?” Seto blurted out. 

Jou blinked. “No,” he answered. “Should I call you a cab to get you back to the hotel?” 

“Heard you the first time,” Seto mumbled, sliding off the edge of the stool to get to his feet. He wavered as the room spun a little, grabbing onto the wooden edge of the bar. “I didn’t tell you what hotel I’m at.” 

Jou snorted. “There’s only one in this shithole of a town,” he pointed out. 

Seto blinked at the blond. He didn’t remember the last time someone actually _swore_ in front of him. Most people at least attempt to try and be polite around him. 

“Send me there, I guess.” He remembered something. “I need my keys.” 

“Uh-uh,” Jou said flatly. “The keys stay behind the bar until you come back, sober, to collect ‘em.” 

He huffed. “Fine.” He wandered away from the bar, determined to find his way out and get to that hotel. He ends up lost, somewhere amongst the poker tables. 

Jou found him there after half the lights had been dimmed. He grabbed him not-too-gently by the back of his shirt and pulled him up onto his feet. “Come on you.” 

Seto was half asleep, but he slumped over Jou and let himself be half-carried out of the club. The taxi driver’s accent was even rougher than Jou’s, and Seto spent a few minutes staring at him incomprehensibly before Jou slid into the car and answered him. 

* * *

The rest of the night he didn’t remember. But he woke up, with a hangover from hell, to the sound a couple screaming at one another. He sat up, the blankets of the bed he’s in sliding off of him. He was not in a hotel, the décor made that obvious. A moment later he spotted someone lying on a futon on the other side of the room. 

Brown eyes were glaring at the wall through which the sounds of rough arguing was coming through. They flicked toward the bed as they felt Seto’s gaze and paused there. 

Jou sat up and stratched, his spine popping as he arched. “Morning. If you’ve stained my sheets green you’re buying me more.” 

“Why would I stain your…?” 

“Pops always spray-dyes his hair green for Christmas. The laundry’s a nightmare.” He stood up, wearing a pair of loose, worn pyjama pants. They slid down his lips. For being so skinny, the blond was unexpectedly muscular. 

For a brief moment he had a crystal clear vision of licking chocolate sauce out of the divots of Jou’s Adam’s Girdle. 

Shaking his head free of thoughts, he spotted a lock of green hair flopping in his eyes. Oh…right. “It’s not a spray-in. It’s dye.” 

“So it’s just the towels we’ve gotta watch out for,” Jou replied. 

“You do the laundry for the hotel?” Seto asked, confused. 

“No,” Jou answered, and grimaced. “Pops is insisting we offer you our hospitality. I think he just wants a drinking buddy.” 

He gagged a little. “Please don’t mention liquor right now,” he said, burying his head in his hands. 

He heard Jou coming closer, then the grind of wood and plastic from a drawer opening. He turned his head and saw Jou rummaging around. He took out a blue bottle of over-the-counter analgesics. “Here,” the blond said, holding it out to him. “My Pops would recommend hair of the dog, but that’s not my style.” 

“Recommend what?” He mumbled, frowning at him in confusion. 

“Hair of the dog that bit ya,” he said. “He takes a shot of whiskey in the mornings as soon as he gets up.” 

He cringed at that and reached out a hand for the pills. He read the label and raised an eyebrow. “These are strong.” 

“Yeah,” he shrugged. “I get migraines.” 

Seto unscrewed the bottle and took a couple, taking the bottle of water Jou handed to him to wash them down. “Thanks.” He combed his fringe back toward the rest of his hair with his fingers. “I need a coffee.” 

“We’d need to go down to the diner for that,” he said. “You got any cash?” 

“Some,” he said. “Let the analgesic set in and then we’ll go.” 

“Wait for what to set in?” Jou asked, a horrified tone in his voice. 

“Analgesic,” he said, frowning in confusion. “A, uh… painkiller?” 

“Oh!” Jou said, then laughed at himself. “I only just passed High School. Ain’t any time for your fancy university vocabulary words.” Shaking his head, he turned away. “Well, I’m gonna grab a shower while you do that,” he said. He grabbed a towel off the back of his door and headed out. 

* * *

The coffee at the diner was swill. The place didn’t even have a name, the obnoxious neon sign just said ‘Diner’. He loaded his cup up with sugar and creamers until it was hardly brown anymore and dug his way through a plate of bacon and eggs. Grease and salt was the best flavour he’d ever tasted. Somewhere an army of palace chefs were weeping. 

Jou went more traditional, natto and egg over rice. He held the bowl up close to his mouth and watched Seto eat as he shovelled rice into his mouth with chopsticks. 

“So,” he said. “How do you even know my Pops?” 

Seto nearly choked on his coffee. “Uh…” He set down his knife and fork and cleared his throat. “We met at the Veteran’s Games.” 

“Oh, you’re an army guy.” There was a smile on his face, but Seto knew it was fake. He recognised the strain around the edges he knows well. 

“No,” Seto answered. “Not really. I was, sponsoring it, in a way.” He glanced around, then leaned closer. “Can I tell you something I’ve never told anyone, Jounouchi?” 

He set down his breakfast bowl and leaned close to him. “You can call me Jou, you know. Everyone does.” He met Seto’s eyes, dark and intent. “Of course you can, Kaiba. I’m your bartender.” 

Seto huffed and sat back, finger-combing his fringe back into place. “I hate the military,” he said. “My father talks about how important it is. Even Switzerland has an army.” 

“Doesn’t the Swiss Army protect the Pope?” Jou asked. 

Seto gave a startled sort of laugh. “No. That’s the Swiss Guard.” 

Jou shrugged, but clearly seemed embarrassed by his faux pas. “Well, you can see my opinion on the whole thing.” 

“You work at the Vets’ Club, though,” He said, picking his fork back up. 

The blond sighed, and started screwing up his napkin. “Look, Kaiba,” he said, his voice angry. “This…whatever you’re doing in the asscrack of nowhere—I’m sure it’s a fun little adventure for you. Dyeing your hair an outrageous punk colour, rebelling against your dad and pretending you’re not a rich privileged snob to slum it out in the styx of Hirutani. But for those of us _living_ in this dead-end town, there ain’t much going for us.” 

“I don’t think I quite deserved that tirade,” Seto said dryly. Interacting with Jou was the most unique social experience he’d had since…well, since Jounouchi Matsumi demanded he buy a round of drinks for fairness’ sake. 

“I work at the Vets’ because my Pops runs it. There ain’t, well, any job opportunities in this town. Pops and Ma basically guaranteed I know my way around liquor. He can’t always afford to pay me, but the tips ain’t bad. It’s shit, but for some of us mediocrity is all we’re ever gonna get.” 

“Do you have big dreams, Jounouchi?” Seto heard himself asking. He surprised himself with the genuine curiosity he felt for the question. 

He expected to be told off for being intrusive, but instead Jou sighed and started digging some crumpled notes out his pocket. “Kinda. There was…don’t you dare laugh at me, okay?” 

Seto held up his hands. “You have my word.” 

“When I was in high school, there was this…card game. I was kinda good at. I wanted to play, you know, professionally. But it turns out Duel Monsters ain’t exactly a lucrative entertainment.” 

He couldn’t help the startled sound he made at the name. “You play?” He probably ought to be embarrassed by the judgemental tone in his voice, but he wasn’t. Anonymously, he was one of the champions of the DMO network—as soon as he figured out the right strategy to beat that Yu-Gi-Oh player then he _would_ become the top duellist in the world. 

“Not so much anymore,” Jou answered. “But, you know, back in the day. I had a three star duellist rating, you know?” 

Seto couldn’t restrain the derisive snort that escaped his mouth. “You’re a third-rate duellist. No wonder you couldn’t get a League sponsorship.” 

“Wow.” Jou glared at him, brown eyes sparking with restrained anger. “I oughta knock you off for that,” he said, getting to his feet. The chair scraped across the cheap linoleum with a horrid noise. “But it’s bad hospitality to punch your houseguests.” 

Princes don’t apologise. That fact had been drilled into his head since he was five years old and trying to say sorry to Mokuba for breaking one of his toys. So he finished off his coffee, got out his wallet and pulled out a few crisp, freshly printed notes. 

“Leave a good tip,” Jou barked at him, then went back out to the parking lot. 

* * *

“Your son’s really something else, Jounouchi.” 

They were sitting at a table in the bar of the Vets’ club. Seto had been here a week, living in the pockets of the Jououchis, coming to the bar every day. Jounouchi had been drunk every day and Seto had kept up with him for the most part. But today he was giving his liver a break. Sober, for the first time being here, he was starting to notice something he’d been drunkenly oblivious to. 

Jounouchi Katsuya—since he’d finally learned the son’s name—was attractive. Or, rather, “Kaiba” was attracted to him. 

The senior Jounouchi squinted at him, bleary. “You interested in tupping my boy, then?” 

“About three months ago,” Seto explained carefully, “my father said I had six months to choose a commoner to arrange a marriage with.” 

“Katsuya is the…absolute worst choice to make your princess. Looks good in a dress, but as soon as he opens his mouth he’d ruin it.” Jounouchi was basically mumbling to himself at this stage. 

“…a male someone,” Seto continued, eyes turning back to the bar. 

Jou was there, he’d been there every day. He was smiling, right now, chatting friendly to a blonde with a scandalous amount of décolletage on display. The rich brown eyes wandered down to it a few times, enough to show interest but not long enough to be crass about the matter. 

“Is he gay?” 

Jounouchi snorted. “He likes who he likes, you know?” 

“Bisexual, then?” 

“Something like that.” The greying man downed the rest of his pint of beer. “You want a sham marriage with my boy?” He asked, looking startlingly sober for a minute as he glared at Seto. 

“An arranged marriage,” he answered, “for publicity.” 

Jounouchi Sr. squinted at him, grabbed the glass of cola he’s been ignoring, downed it all in one long gulp, and then stared him down. “Katsuya is a good kid. And he deserves more than this bumfuck town.” He leant back in his chair. “If it’ll get him out of here, you got my help.” 

“Your help is not the only thing I’ll need.” 

* * *

Seto sent a letter detailing his choice to his father. He purposely underpaid for it so it would take longer to arrive. 

* * *

“The army in Japan is a self-defence force,” Seto explained. “They don’t go to battle. One of their primary purposes is disaster relief.” 

Jou glanced up at him from the chest he was digging through. “Okay…?” 

“I’ve never really met anyone who dislikes the military in the same way I do,” Seto continued. “So I wanted to know what you thought of alternatives.” 

“Never really thought about it.” He took a plastic box of sewing items out of the chest and then closed it up. “War messes soliders up,” he said. He sat by the futon and unrolled it. Laying it over his lap, he found the tear and popped open the sewing box. “I guess something like that doesn’t send them into combat’s better.” 

“Combat certainly does cause the most psychological traumas, notably PTSD,” Seto agreed, “most people think the most common problem is disfigurement or loss of limb.” 

“I’m a bartender at a Vets’ Club, Kaiba,” he said with a snort. “You don’t need to tell me about PTSD. Do you know how many of these vets that self-medicate with liquor?” 

“With the shift of priorities, more emphasis could be put on helping returned servicemen acclimatise back into normal life; and take care of their mental health needs.” 

“Did you eat a dictionary or something?” Jou asked, frowning at him. “I got, like, half of that…” He tied a knot in the thread and cut it off, starting to pack everything away. “And I’m sure that sounds fine, but it’ll never happen. You know Pops met one of the royal princes when he was in the vets’ Olympics?” 

Seto cleared his throat. “Yes. The royal family was involved.” 

“As like, pretend sponsors. They didn’t give any money but they showed up for some photo opportunities or something.” 

Seto swallowed. Jou didn’t know how close he’d gotten to the truth. “Endorsement,” he said. “To show their solidarity and support for the games.” 

“Yeah that,” Jou sad, making the futon up with fresh sheets. “Anyway, he tells everyone that he took one of the princes out to get drunk and made him pay for their booze.” 

“He said that, did he?” Seto asked. He felt nerves twisting in his stomach, though his years of being taught how to present himself means it doesn’t show. 

“He’s trying to convince everyone that he’s best friends with some prince half his age. That he gets calls from him all the time about when he’s coming into the country next.” 

When Jou said it like that, it sounded ridiculous. Like the delusion of a drunk man trying to namedrop the only credible celebrity that came to mind. Obviously unbelievable—because why would a prince do that? 

“Anyway,” Jou said, “ignore my tangent. The point is, nothing goes through parliament without the king’s approval. The royal family loves the military—the king is like…proud of how threatening his military is. And if my Pops can be believed, the princes are all thinking the same.” 

Seto sighed, because Jou was right about his father. They would never get rid of the military during his reign; and Noa was just as likely to follow in his example. “Well. We can dream.” 

The blond didn’t reply to that. Seto sighed again and reached up to run his fingers through his fringe. 

“You need to do your roots soon.” 

He lifted his head to look at him, utterly bewildered. “Is that some kind of sex thing?” He asked. 

Jou snorted and shook his head. “No. It’s your brown hair growing back and ruining your broccoli impression.” 

“My hair regrowth,” Seto said as he realized his mistake. “My apologies.” He turned on his side so he could get a better view of Jou lazily sprawled on the futon. “I’ll probably just dye it back before we leave.” 

Jou gave him a strange look. “We?” He repeated. 

Seto made sure his panic at the slip up didn’t show. “Me and my escort, probably,” he answered. “I doubt my father will let me travel unaccompanied.” 

Jou frowned, but didn’t say anything regarding the matter. He stayed for a while, then got up to put away his sewing box. From this angle, Seto could better see in the box. 

He sat up a little. “Are those duel monsters cards?” 

“Hn?” Jou glanced of the scuffed-up Tupperware container. “Oh. Yeah. I told you that I used to play.” Inside the container there was forty cards bound up in a rubber band, and another dozen or so loose. After a moment, he looked from the box up at Seto. “Wait, you recognise them?” 

“I play myself,” he said. “Or have. It has been several months.” 

Jou smiled slightly. “Maybe we can play against each other sometime!” 

Seto scoffed. “I’d have more of a challenge playing solitaire.” It was only a moment before the realisation of his unnecessary harshness set in. 

The blond scowled and shut the lid of the chest forcefully. “Just when I think we’re getting along, you have to remind me what a stuck up jerk you are.” He stood up and turned off the light, making his way back to the futon. “Bingo tomorrow. They’ll be lining up at the bar as soon as the clock ticks over to ten.” 

It was strange how Jou made him consider the necessity of apologies more than anyone ever had in his life. He settled down on the bed, trying to sleep. After an hour, he gave up and sat up. He slipped his legs out of the bed, keeping as quiet as possible. 

He was in the doorway before Jou spoke up, not a hint of tiredness in his voice. “If you’re leaving now I’m totally going to take my bed back.” 

He turned slightly and looked down at the blond, tired and rumpled in the futon. “Go ahead. Sleep well, Jounouchi.” 

The elder Jounouchi was awake, even at this time of night, sitting outside the apartment door. He had a bottle of bottom shelf rum in one hand and a cigarette in the other. Seto pulled up one of the other folding chairs beside him; but he didn’t take the bottle when it was offered out to him. 

“I almost told him I was taking him with me when I leave,” he said, after the silence dragged on for too long. “I managed to make some excuse for it, but it still slipped out.” 

“You need to tell him,” Jounouchi said firmly. “I have agreed to go along with your plan. But you will tell him before you both leave.” 

“I’m trying to build a relationship between us first,” he confessed reluctantly. “Arranged marriages are commonplace to me, but I know they’re out of favour among the laymen.” 

There was more to it than that. But he wouldn’t tell his future father-in-law that this was the closest he would ever get to having a normal relationship and he would take the opportunity while he had it. Jou would never have been his father’s first choice, but if Seto could delay enough time it would be too late for the publicity team to find someone different in time. The news was already talking about the expected legislation for marriage equality would pass as soon as the formalities went through. 

“Your highness,” Jounouchi said quietly. “You’ve been here three months already. Your time’s run out. You need to tell him by the end of the week. Before the king sends security to collect you.” 

* * *

It turned out, Seto didn’t get the rest of the week. His body guards showed up on Thursday. Isono, who’d been guarding him since he was a child, gave his hair a funny look and silently pushed him toward the bathroom where his stylist was waiting. 

Jou came back with a bag of groceries, while the guards were preparing the car. Seto felt strange, here with Jou, dressed as his normal self. 

The blond stopped as he noticed the change. He gave an awkward laugh. “Geez. I always knew you were rich, but I didn’t know you were, like…casual suit and tie rich.” 

He swallowed, feeling uncertain. “Quite.” 

Jou set down the bag of groceries on the couch. “I guess your Pops sent for you, right? Explains the fancy limo outside.” 

Another stifled silence, as Seto tried to piece together how to tell Jou what he’s been concealing. 

Jou frowned, squinted at him and took a deep breath. “You know. Dressed up like that, with the hair… has anyone ever told you how much you look like Prince Seto?” 

Seto silently clasped his hands behind his back, watching him. 

Jou swore and stepped back from him. “I guess I’ve gotta apologize to Pops for thinking his story about drinking with you after the games, now.” 

“That will…have to wait,” he said quietly. “Isono already sent him on ahead of us.” 

“Us?” Jou repeated, confused. “I don’t understand.” 

“I had hoped to explain this to you in a different manner, but I had expected to have more time.” He watched him with composed expression. “You and I are getting married by the end of the month.” 

Jou stared at him inarticulately for a long minute. “I’m sorry, what?” 

“My father—” 

“King Gozaburo of the Empire,” Jou interrupted, a panicked tautness to his voice. 

“Yes, him. He decided the first precedent for same-sex marriage for the empire should be the royal family.” 

“And that’s you.” He gave a disbelieving look. “You have slept with _so many_ women.” 

“Inaccurate,” Seto answered, embarrassed. “Father has agreed to let me come out as bisexual, to avoid any confusion.” 

“You’re not?” 

“No. Only men,” he answered carefully. 

“I’m not attracted to you!” the blond yelled, the pitch of his voice rising higher with panic. 

Seto felt his stomach sink. “That’s…particularly unfortunate.” He let his hands unclasp, falling down to his side. 

“I’m saying no,” Jou said firmly. 

“You’re not…being given a choice,” he said. “I… organized the legal nuptial agreement with your father.” 

“It’s the twenty-first century!” the blond shouted. “Arranged marriages are evil!” 

Seto stared at him in silence. “I’ve was betrothed to Princess Kisara when I was three years old, Jou,” he answered eventually. “Try to comprehend my relief when it came to pass that not only could I marry someone that I’m actually attracted to, but one that I’ve actually chosen for myself.” 

“Oh _good_ ,” Jou sneered, disgusted. “I’m glad _you_ get to choose the person you’ll marry!” 

In the tense silence that followed, Isono reappeared in the doorway of the apartment and looked in hesitantly. “Your highness? The car is waiting.” 

“Have a good trip,” Jou snapped, sarcastic. 

“Jounouchi,” he said gently. “Come with me. Your father is in Domino. If you wish to convince him to sever any arrangements we’ve made, he’ll need to be present.” 

“I don’t…” He faltered. “I’ve never left this province before. I don’t have a passport or anything.” 

“You’re travelling in a royal aeroplane to the crown state of the commonwealth,” Seto answered. “You don’t need travel documents.” 

Jou still looked mildly panicked. 

The prince stepped closer, placing his hands on his biceps. “Your chest is already packed in the car. You’ll get out of this town and its sunken economy, see somewhere else for the first time in your life.” 

Jou’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, darting a look toward Isono and the door. 

* * *

“This is completely unacceptable!” 

There was a vein throbbing in King Gozaburo’s temple, eyes nearly bulging with rage. The royal publicist was equally as angry, but he was unable to treat Prince Seto disrespectfully. He was the one yelling, the king had a stonewall of silence. 

“When we allowed you go unsupervised in the Commonwealth for the purpose of selecting a husband from a commoner’s upbringing—” 

“Which I have done,” Seto interrupted, using the imperious tone of voice he’d missed pressing against the publicist. 

“ _The understanding_ ,” he continued, frustrated, “was that you would select someone of a certain refined standard.” 

“Princess Catherine may not have a single drop of blue blood in her veins, but at least she went to a decent school.” The ice-cold comment came from Queen Sasuka. She herself had gone to the best schools in Domino, and had a grand-uncle who was a minor lord. 

“There are _standards_ to being royalty,” the publicist continued. “Behaviours and etiquette that must be maintained for the sake of the royal reputation.” 

Seto stood and straightened his suit, buttoning up the jacket to stay neat. “Then I suppose you’ll have to give me more time to find a suitable candidate. And provide both the Jounouchi men with the agreed upon fortunes for severing the nuptial agreement.” 

A spasm of anger crossed the publicist’s face, but he was almost astounded to see a slight smile tugging at his father’s lips. “What agreement?” 

He gestured Isono over and took the folder from his hands. He passed it over to the publicist, who hurried to open it and remove the papers. He read them over, his scowl growing deeper and deeper at each paragraph. 

He closed the folder after the first page. “I’ll have the legal team look into the matter.” 

“Now, during the interim,” Seto declared, “I am going to spend some time with my younger brother.” 

* * *

The cottage that the Domino Jounouchis own in a quiet province was secluded enough Isono decided he was the only escort Seto needed for the visit. The elderly woman that greeted them at the doorway had a shrewd look about her—as if she knows all of his secrets. 

Isono was set up in the conservatory with a bowl of curry and a pot of tea. Seto, meanwhile, was ‘escorted’ by the woman into the front, formal sitting room. Colonel Jounouchi was polite and formal in his greeting, and Seto could tell before a dozen words were spoken that he has met with royalty before. His wife was less polished, unrefined roots obvious to someone who knew how to look for them. Jounouchi Matsumi greeted him like an old drinking buddy which, he supposed, he rather was. 

From Jou, his fiancé at present, he received barely a nod. Then silence for the rest of their tea. Once the pot had been emptied, they were led to the formal dining room. For a strained moment, as he listened to the colonel formally give thanks for the meal, Seto missed his days in Hirutani. 

Dinner there had been a plate or a bowl shoved into his hands, the briefest mumble of a thanks, and then digging in to the meal without fanfare. Cheap chopsticks made of bamboo, cracked bowls, and usually the television on some mindless sitcom. 

Dinner here wasn’t as formal as dinners at the palace, but it was a start difference to how he was used to dining in recent months. The plates were made of fine porcelain, the chopsticks highly polished ebony. When Jou reached for the soy sauce with his left hand, his grandmother’s hand darted out to smack it harshly. The next time the youngest Jounouchi reached for something, he used his right. 

Seto did not allow any of his discomfort to show. He was elegant and composed, maintaining conversation with the older men with ease. When he excused himself for a private moment, Jou offered to escort him only after the colonel glared at him for a full minute. 

The walk down the corridor and upstairs promised to be uncomfortably silent. Seto, however, refused to let the moment pass unheeded. “Dinner was quite enjoyable.” 

“Obaa-san’s a good cook,” Jou mumbled, as if he was reluctantly to be heard—let alone overheard. 

Seto blinked at him. “I think that must be the first time I’ve heard you use an honorific.” 

“Yeah, well…” He started off aggressive, but sighed heavily and deflated slightly. “My grandparents are old-fashioned. I’d rather not get in trouble.” 

Seto watched him for a long moment. “They’re not usually this formal, surely?” 

“No,” Jou agreed. He rubbed at his left hand, a new nervous habit that Seto doesn’t needn’t even guess at the cause of. “They ain’t usually this bad. But they’re…” He struggled for his next words, and then just said “old fashioned” again. 

“Well,” Seto said gently. “If all goes the direction it appears to be heading, within a month you’ll be out of here.” 

“Unless the king ain’t gonna fight the arrangement you and Pops made. Then I’ll get stuck in some palace where things are even worse!” 

Seto really oughtn’t have found the pout Jou wore after those words endearing, but he did. He had the wayward impulse to lean forward and kiss it away, but the desire was easily repressed. 

“I had a meeting with him and the royal publicist yesterday morning,” Seto answered. “They are having the documents investigated by our lawyers.” 

“Well I hope you made a nice big loophole for them to find,” Jou replied, frowning. “I ain’t enjoying my time here.” 

“If they don’t.—” 

“They will,” Jou said stubbornly. 

“Very well. On the highly unlikely outcome that they don’t nullify the betrothal…” He gave the blond a long look. “Would it really be so bad to be married to me?” 

“Yes.” The denial is flat, unhesitant. Not a single modicum of doubt to build a hope on. 

“Oh.” 

“I don’t know why you ever thought I’d agree to it.” 

“The queen insists loudly and often that I am merely stalling for time.” He learned the skills of wordplay long before he understood how the craft was to be used. It was not truth, but it had enough reality to be convincing. 

Seto wanted Jou to be his husband—if at the very least because he would make palace life interesting. But he daren’t tell that, lest it cause the blond to mistrust him even further. 

Jou gave him a long, scrutinizing look, then turned away without a word. “We’ve been pretending to go to the bathroom for long enough. We gotta get back in there.” 

As his betrothed led him back to the formal sitting room again, Seto remembered the conversation he shared with Mokuba the previous day. 

_“Noa told me that you found someone to marry.”_

_“I did. A young man from Hirutani named Jou.”_

_“And he agreed to marry you?”_

_“_ _…_ _no. He did not.”_

_“Do you love him?”_

_“Don’t talk nonsense, Mokuba. I’ve known him for barely three months.”_

_“Does he love you?”_

_“_ _…_ _no, Mokuba. No he doesn’t.”_

_“Your initial attempt at matrimony wasn’t very successful then, was it Seto?”_

_“I suppose it isn’t.”_

He gave Jou a long look, then stepped past him into the room. “Your house is delightful.” 

* * *

“You did this simply to frustrate us, didn’t you Seto?” 

The brunet looked up from his book. It was rare that the king had time to himself, and stranger still that he used that time to seek out his second child for a discussion. “I beg your pardon, Father,” he said deferentially, “but I do not know what you are talking about.” 

“We realise that as my second born you did not receive the same attentions growing up, but this is an extreme attempt at attention seeking.” 

Seto snorted and closed the book he’d been reading. “Father,” he said in a level voice. “Believe me when I tell you that had I wanted to do something reckless to ‘get your attention’, I would not be gambling my future on the matter.” 

“So, why this Jounouchi character then?” The king asked, giving him a cold look. “You had six months to reconnect with the high-class commoners and make an appropriate choice for your royal consort. From what we can understand you spent months in the lowest economic town in Hirutani, interacting with very few people.” 

“You are not incorrect,” he replied diplomatically. “I went to Hirutani to reconnect with an acquaintance I met amongst the participants of the Veterans’ Olympics. He happened to have a son.” 

“And you decided that this dirt was the one you would marry?” He asked, angry. 

“I intended to waste away the allotted time and return having found no suitable choices,” he answered. 

A muscle ticked in the king’s jaw. “So you intended to flout us.” 

“You were going to force the matter regardless of my input,” he replied, his voice cold and emotionless. “Never mind that this was a matter that may have had significance to me.” 

“Do not be so selfish, Seto,” he replied impatiently. “Do you think my own marriage was as we wished it to be? Either of them? We are royalty. Everything we do is a display for the public eye. You would _embarrass_ the entire kingdom by dragging this dirt—with no airs or graces—to parade around as your husband.” 

Seto restrained the urge to roll his eyes. That was not suitable behaviour for a royal prince—and it was certainly an offensive attitude toward the king. 

“I did not truly expect him to be chosen as a suitable candidate,” he answered. “I was stalling for more time. I knew it would cause difficulties in getting rid of the marriage agreement.” 

“Well you have succeeded in causing a disruption,” the king answered coolly. He peered at him for a long moment. “You have no attachment to this Jounouchi Katsuya? He is merely a tool for your recalcitrance?” 

“Yes, father.” 

King Gozaburo gave him a long, intense look. “Very well,” he said. With a curt nod, he turned on his heel and left the library. 

* * *

The blond was irate, trembling with rage, as Seto came into the room. When the Publicist had told him that the Jounouchis had come to the palace, wearing a smug and somewhat victorious expression, he had expected it meant that the contract was nullified. 

“You told me this wasn’t going to happen!” Jou shouted as soon as he spotted Seto in the doorway. “Kaiba, what the fuck?” 

“Katsuya!” the colonel snapped, scandalized. “You can’t address a prince of the commonwealth like that!” 

Seto held up a hand to silence him. “It’s quite alright. I’m not offended.” His heart was hammering against his chest, but he did his best to act composed. What did Jou mean by his outburst? “I apologise that things haven’t precisely gone to plan…” 

“Kaiba I don’t wanna marry you!” Jou shouted, distressed. “You were supposed to sort everything out!” 

“I left things in the hands of the royal lawyers. They’re more than capable of dealing with such matters—” 

“But they didn’t!” Jou shouted, fists bunching tightly. “I just got handed a schedule for my ‘education’ and wedding preperations!” 

Seto swallowed carefully. “I was not aware of this,” he said. The tone of the last conversation he had with his father was starting to come to light. “He’s…punishing me for being insolent. Making me face the consequences of choice I’ve made.” He sighed. “I’m sorry, Jou. I didn’t think this would happen. I thought certainly that maintaining the family reputation was more important to him.” 

“Stop it!” Jou yelled, stepping toward him in an aggressive movement. “This ain’t a big joke, this is serious!” 

“Your pardon, I wasn’t attempting to be humerous, Jou.” He could feel his muscles tense and ready to go through a nervous gesture, neatening his hair, but he didn’t dare. He’d allowed himself the privilege of too many bad habits while he was staying with the Jounouchis in Hirutani. 

Before either one of them could continue the conversation, the royal publicist entered with a typist in tow. “Good good, thank you all for coming,” he said. Without waiting for any of the occupants to speak, he ushered them towards the lounges. “We’d best get to work on the press releases immediately. Plans for the wedding are well under way and should be finalised by the end of the month for a ceremony the day after the legislation passes.” He narrowed his eyes at Jou and said in an overtly polite voice: “Jounouchi, sir, if you would take a seat beside His Highness, we can begin the photography.” 

Jou’s face spasmed in frustration, and he crossed to sit on the same loveseat as Seto, quite literally as far away as possible. 

The publicist fixed him with a smile. “If you require acting lessons in addition to other deportment, then that can easily be arranged.” 

The blond grimaced at that and moved closer, into Seto’s personal space but not allowing their limbs to touch. 

The two elder Jounouchi men were dressed in their formal military uniforms, slightly different in colours due to their respective countries, but the same in design. His grandmother was dressed in a formal day suit. Jou must have been wearing new clothes because he had seen all of the blond's clothes in the months they stayed together and he had nothing like the shirt and trousers he was wearing at that moment back then. 

They drank tea. Seto conducted the group, like holding court, managing a few laughs from all of them at his jokes. 

Eventually Jou launched into a description of the tourist adventures he’d been having with his father. Seto listened to him, teacup in hand but ignoring it. There was excitement and wonder in the depe brown eyes—describing places he had never hoped to see but now had the chance to. 

Jou was handsome, and spirited—and excitement lit up his expression in a way he’d never seen in Hirutani. He thought, for a long moment, that he was glad that he had chosen Jou for his future husband. 

The moment lasted until the camera shutter clicked right in his fast. He turned his face away and picked up his teacup to drink. It was freezing cold, but he managed to carefully prevent his grimace. 

The publicist finished up the meeting and sent the older three Jounouhcis away. He promised to return for Jou soon and then left the engaged couple alone. 

“It is a shame that you find this arrangement so distasteful,” Seto said, once the door closed. “I will do my best to make your life as comfortable as possible once we are married.” 

Jou gave him a disgusted look and excused himself ‘to piss’. 

* * *

Seto had served a mandatory two years in the armed forces when he was eighteen years of age. He’d been carefully kept out of the way of any real conflict, so it had been a sham as much as anything else. It did, however, entitle him to wear the formal military uniform at events like coronations, funerals and weddings. 

Even his own. 

He tugged at the gold trim until his hand was batted away by the gloved fingers of his valet. His stomach was twisting with his anxieties, but he’d rejected the numberous offers of wine from his gentlemen. 

It would have been so easy to pass the day on that fragile edge of drunk he’d perfected wherein he could still maintain his well-crafted façade. But every time he thought about it, the same imagine flashed through his mind: Jou, behind the bar at his father’s Vets’ Club, his eyes disappointed with every drink Seto ordered. 

No, he had decided. He would spend the day as sober as he knew his groom must be. 

_His groom._

“Seto if you don’t calm down, I’ll be forced to call the physician to sedate you.” 

“Shut up, Noa,” Seto snapped. 

“You do look rather green, your highness,” one of his gentlemen said. 

“It’s my wedding day,” Seto replied emphatically. “I do believe I am entitled to a certain level of nerves.” 

“I was nowhere near as nervous as you on my own wedding day,” the crown prince replied. 

“You’d never met Maria before.” Seto gave a heavy, irritated sigh. “Noa, I would appreciate it if you _left_. You’re more trouble than help at this very moment.” 

Mokuba ushered the rest of the gentlemen-of-chambers out, leaving the two youner princes alone. “Seto?” 

“Mokuba…” He collapsed on the nearest armchair, not caring in the slightest about wrinkling his clothing. “I’m not so sure I should go through with this.” 

“There’s no backing out of it now,” his younger brother pointed out. “Father would have you both thrown in the tower.” 

“It’s a sham,” he said weakly. “So many people all around the world are fighting for the right to marry, and Father turned this into a publicity stunt.” 

“Seto, you like Jou,” Mokuba said—sounding much wiser than his eighteen years. “That’s more than most of us will ever get.” 

“Jou doesn’t like me,” he answered. “Any chance at happiness in marriage was destroyed the moment I arranged it behind his back!” 

“Try not to be so melodramatic,” Mokuba said, nudging him in the side. “Jou will forgive you. Given time I’m sure that he will grow quite fond of you.” 

“Fond,” Seto repeated, disheartened. 

“It’s all people like us can hope for, Seto,” the younger brother said softly. “Maybe you’ll be one of the lucky ones. But you can’t count on it.” 

Seto took a deep breath and stood. “You’re right. Bring the gentlemen back in. We must keep up appearances.” 

* * *

As soon as they got back to their room at the palace, Seto collapsed face-first into the large bed. It was made up with new sheets—they felt stiff and uncomfortable against his skin. He took a deep breath and tried to ignore the braiding of his suit pressing into his chest. 

“Um…” 

He tensed as he heard the tentative voice. So much for relaxing. Turning onto his side, he glanced at Jou standing at the foot of the bed. “Yes, Jou?” 

“Do I get my own bed?” He asked. 

“Not tonight,” he replied. He sat up properly and gave him a patient look. “It’s still somewhat disapproved of at court for noble couples to always share a bed. But tonight? They expect us to, uh, consummate the marriage.” 

“Pervert!” Jou barked furiously, backing away from him. 

“You can relax, Jou,” Seto answered softly. “I have no such expectations of you. If we ever do copulate it will be because we both wholeheartedly desire it.” 

Jou gave him a suspicious look. “You ain’t gonna like…exercise your rights as a husband?” 

Seto raised an eyebrow, somewhat offended that the blond would think him capable of that. “Are you?” 

“God no!” 

Seto sighed. “We’re generally confined to these suites for the night, but otherwise you’re free to spend tonight as you wish.” 

Jou gave him a bitter look. He understood the sentiment behind it: Jou was no longer free at all. With only a short pause, the blond wandered off to explore the rooms. 

Seto carefully removed the formal jacket and carious belts and straps holding his military uniform together. There was a set of pyjamas in one of the drawers, with the royal crest of the Duke of Kaiba on the breast pocket. He dressed in them, looked longingly at the bed, then sought out his groom. 

Jou was sprawled comfortably on the fainting couch, snoring slightly. The large television set into a gilded frame on the wall was turned on and muted. It was the evening news and as he watched, a segment on the recent earthquake crisis ended. As soon as the next begun, he was rather frantically searching the room for the remote. 

“Exclusive footage of the royal wedding,” said the headline. Indeed, there was the royal cathedral, crowded with any number of royals and nobles. There he himself was, standing at the altar, looking every moment the part of a nervous, eager groom. The shot changed, and there was Jou—looking no less breathtaking in pixels than he had in person. 

He gave the room another lookover and found the remote on the couch just out of Jou’s reach. He swooped it up and turned the television off. A ghostly negative stayed on the screen, slowly fading away: “announcing the marriage of Prince Seto and Prince Katsuya, Duke and Lord of Kaiba.” 

He set the remote back on the coffee table and turned to go back to the bedroom. He caught sight of Jou ( _Prince Katsuya, Lord of Kaiba_ ) looking up at him blearily. “I was watching that.” 

“You were asleep,” he corrected. “Would you use the bed or should I send your gentlemen to fetch you a blanket and pillow?” 

“Nah,” Jou said, sitting up. “The angle’s all funny on this sofa.” 

Seto thought about correcting him on the proper terminology of the furniture, but decided against it. “Very well. As you wish.” 

Jou gave him a look. “You’re wearing pyjamas.” 

“Indeed,” Seto replied, raising his eyebrow. 

“I didn’t hear your lords-in-waiting or whatever come in.” 

Seto let the smile of amusement at the faux-pas freely cross his face. “Gentlemen of chambers,” he corrected gently, “that is the masculine equivalent.” He moved a lock of hair, sticky with hair product, out of his eyes. “You did not hear them come in because I did not summon them. I am not so pampered that I am incapable of undressing myself.” 

Jou glanced down at himself, still dressed in the formal wedding suit. It was wrinkled, but not even the cravat pin had been removed. 

Seto paused. “Would you like me to call…?” 

“No!” the blond snapped. “I’m perfectly capable!” 

“Very well,” he conceded, not wishing to pursue the matter. “I wondered if you would perhaps like to duel?” 

Jou blinked, confused. “What, swords or pistols?” 

Seto smiled slightly. “I was thinking cards,” he corrected. “I made sure that your father had your deck delivered to us yesterday.” 

“You’ve got my deck?” 

“I believe I just said that, yes.” 

“I didn’t even know you played!” Jou protested. 

“Indeed I do,” he responded. “I am quite highly ranked on the online duellist network. Don’t feel too disillusioned when I beat you.” 

“Oi!” Jou protested. “Who said you’re gonna beat me?” 

Seto just smirked. “Come. My duelling table is this way.” 

* * *

_“You spent your wedding night duelling?”_

_“Yes, cousin.”_

_“Not even euphemistically? You quite literally played Duel Monsters all night?”_

_“That is what I have said. Thrice now.”_

_“Was it even strip-duelling?”_

_Seto had brief flash. Fingers defly unpinning the cravat, loosening the silk fabric. Pulling together the taught edges of the belt and twisting the two hooks to unlatch the buckle. Sliding away the heavy ivory fabric of the suit jacket. Fingers fumbling on the fly of tight trousers_ _…_ __

_Seto quickly yanked his thoughts away. “No, cousin. Not even strip duelling._ ” 


End file.
